


My Best Friend's Wedding

by cakeby_thepound



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Post-Break Up, Reunion Sex, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:56:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8333602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeby_thepound/pseuds/cakeby_thepound
Summary: Michonne and Rick recently ended a seven-year relationship, and now, Glenn and Maggie's wedding is forcing them back together for the first time since the last time. (Richonne AU.)





	1. Why Georgia?

She could feel it in her veins the second she stepped off of the plane. As she walked out of the airport and into the gentle October sun, the perfect weather being one of a few things she missed about the city. And all of her reasons for leaving in the first place seemed to be disappearing by the minute, replaced by the one that she would've - maybe even should've - stayed for. Rick.

Just being in the same zip code as him made her antsy. She was anxious, and she wasn't sure why. It wasn't like she didn't think about him otherwise, because she did. Often. But being back there, back _home_ , it already felt different. Driving into the city, taking in the skyline, she could picture his handsome face so vividly, reminded of the million times they'd seen that exact view together. She could hear that ridiculous twang tickling the air, because he was the embodiment of Atlanta to her. Perhaps because he was the first person she met when she moved to the 'big city,' and ten years later, he was the last person she'd been with, in every sense of the phrase, before leaving it. His aura haunted her like a ghost. She hadn't even laid eyes on him yet, but by god, she could feel him. Everything about this place reminded her of him. Which was why she hadn't set foot in the city since leaving three months ago.

It was why actually seeing him again had practically taken her breath away, coming to a full halt when she spotted him. He had every right to be there, and it even made sense that he was, but still, it felt like an intrusion. Especially when she had it all planned out in her head how she would see him again. She would show up for the rehearsal dinner in her tightest jeans, her hair and makeup perfect, bearing gifts from Europe, and she would greet everyone at once, avoiding some awkward hello with him. But no, the universe obviously had other ideas, because it was when she walked into the luxe lobby of The Georgian Terrace, looking every bit like someone who'd just stepped off an 8-hour transatlantic flight, that she saw him standing there. Waiting in line to check in just ahead of her. And while she only had a view from the back, she _knew_ it was him - she could recognize those bowlegs anywhere. And those dark curls peeking out of the back of his cap simply underlined the point.

"Fuck," Michonne mumbled to herself as she approached him. She began to dig in her giant purse for her phone, desperate to see what she looked like before she spoke. Her locs were pulled into a sloppy ponytail at the top of her head, but the colorful scarf she was using as a headband made her look more casual and less like she'd just come from the gym, at least. Her sunglasses covered her tired eyes, and her purse did a lot to hide her wrinkled sweater. Of course this was Rick, whose wardrobe mostly consisted of jeans and t-shirts, so it shouldn't have mattered as much as it did to her. But as someone who preferred for things to go according to a plan, this had really thrown her for a loop. She let out a quick, deep breath and moved in closer to him, lightly tugging at his attention. "Rick?" she called out as if she'd just noticed him.

Rick blinked upon hearing her voice, his breath catching in his throat as he wondered if he was somehow imagining things. Of course he knew she was going to be at the wedding, and he'd been anticipating seeing her again for over a month now, wondering what that first moment would be like. He'd played out the moment in his head over and over again, what he would say to her, how he would play it cool – at least cooler than he was the last time they were together, which was admittedly a pretty low bar. But even so, he'd imagined getting his first glimpse of her at the rehearsal dinner, where he could take it all in, give himself a moment to get reacquainted with being in the same room with her. Especially after he'd spent the last few months training himself not to be. And after a few minutes, he would strike up a casual conversation about anything other than her new life without him, and that was how he planned to get through the weekend. But now, he'd heard what was unmistakably her voice behind him, and he felt frozen. Scared to turn and actually see her for the first time since the last time.

With a hard swallow, Rick did turn to face her, inhaling visibly once he laid eyes on her. As his brain instantly flooded with memories of their seven years together – how many times he'd seen her looking exactly like this as she left their home to run errands. Reminded of how this time, she never came back. Thinking about how she looked just as beautiful now as she did the day they'd met nearly a decade ago. Their friendship turned romance turned nothing. What a trip. All of these thoughts rendered him speechless until he realized that she was waving at him awkwardly.

"Hey, Michonne," he managed to croak out, shaking his head from his daze. He moved in to offer her a friendly hug, and he quickly recognized that she was equally as uneasy, feeling the physical tension in her back in their short embrace. What a relief to know he wasn't alone. "How are you?" he asked once they separated, taking in that delightful, familiar scent of her hair. He even smiled, fondly recalling the giant tub of coconut oil that used to live on her side of the bathroom counter.

"I'm doing well," she nodded, finding that she was already getting lost in his eyes. She was so glad her shades were too dark to give her away, because she was essentially gaping. His denim shirt didn't have to work very hard to make his stare any more stunning, but it did. That muted blue had always been a good color on him, but it seemed especially so now, when she hadn't seen him in months. He was wearing one of his favorite fitted caps that were all just a little bit dirty, looking every bit the Southern frat boy she'd befriended years ago; though the flecks of grey in his short beard reminded her that he'd matured past that, at least a little. "You look great."

"Oh, thank you. So do you," he nodded, trying his best not to fixate on her thighs in those leggings. "How's… New York?"

She shrugged, wanting to downplay it all, and she was thankful that the short line moved so that he was next up. "Good, I guess?" she answered a bit nervously. "I actually just got off of a plane from London, so… I suppose things are going well."

"Oh yeah, Glenn did mention somethin' about you bein' in Paris," he nodded back, noticing the giant suitcase beside her. At least she left him for a good reason, it seemed. If career fulfillment counted as a good reason, anyway. "World traveler, huh?"

"Well, I always wanted to be…"

"Yeah, you did," he smiled back at her warmly, happy that she seemed happy with her decision. "I guess that's why you aren't catering the wedding then."

"Oh, well I offered, but Maggie just wanted me to be… here with you guys. Just be a bridesmaid."

"Makes sense."

"How about you, though?" Michonne went on, still eager to change subjects. "New school year? You like your kids?"

He chuckled as he thought of how at the beginning of every school year, with great ceremony, he would tell Michonne about all his favorite and least favorite new students. And even more than that, he loved when baseball season rolled around, where he transformed from history teacher by day to Coach Grimes at 3pm. And she would come to every game to support him, and without fail, the entire team would fall in love her, even more than they had with him. But two months in and everything about this year was already so different. He hated it. "So far, so good," he replied with another nod, a strained smile to match. He glanced back at the front desk, relieved to see that the guest ahead of him appeared to be finishing up. "So I guess… um, we'll have all weekend to catch up?"

"Oh yeah, of course. You'll be at the rehearsal dinner, right?"

"Seven o'clock," he confirmed, glancing at his watch. He had four hours to pull himself together and stop acting so fucking weird with her. "Should be fun…"

"Yeah, I can't wait to see everyone again..." Michonne found herself smiling back at him, happy to see that he was doing well, or at least looking it, in the time since their breakup. Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips to his chest, then back up again, feeling trapped in her memories as she stared. It was like he'd cast a spell and she was powerless to resist.

"Oh, you go on ahead," Rick graciously offered as the next check-in spot became available.

Knocked out of her daze, she looked back at him surprised, but smiled appreciatively. He was always such a gentleman. "Thank you," she replied, gathering her bag before gently brushing his arm as she passed him. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah…" A deep, sobering breath escaped his lips as she walked away, as he could've sworn there were actual sparks between them when she touched him, the electricity between them tangible. "Fuck," he mumbled to himself as he watched her from behind. As if he hadn't been dreading this weekend enough, questioning how he was going to get through it without looking or feeling crazy. Now that they'd been back in each other's orbit for just a few short minutes, he'd damn near forgotten how to breathe. This was going to be a long weekend.

* * *

A few hours later, the wedding had been rehearsed, a massive dinner served, and toasts made as the eclectic group of family and friends that made up Maggie and Glenn's wedding party gathered at the Greene farm to kick off the weekend. The barn, in particular, had been gorgeously decorated as the backdrop to the momentous occasion, the hanging lights and deep purple and orange flowers giving it all a rustic autumn feel. And a perfect complement to their impending wedding.

"It was so good to see you all together again," Maggie's little sister Beth declared, gazing at the group of people she'd be sharing the stage with the next day. "Seemed like y'all were always around when I was younger, now I can't remember the last time I saw some of you."

Michonne looked down guiltily, beginning to play with the lid of the earring box Maggie had given her earlier in the festivities. She was reminded that even before she left Atlanta, she was already gone in a lot of ways.

"Yeah, it's been a minute since we all been together," Daryl agreed, looking around the small group. "Some people decided to get lives and shit." He made a face at Sasha and then Michonne, given how they'd strayed the farthest, and the group liked to mock them about it. All in good fun, though.

"Well Vegas was only, what? A year and a half ago?" Glenn reminded them, already chuckling as he thought about the last trip they'd all gone on together. The rest of the group laughed, but it was peppered with a few groans, notably from Sasha and Rosita. "Oh, don't front. Vegas was fun, man."

"It was," Sasha reluctantly admitted, "but we agreed we would never bring it up again."

"I actually don't remember agreeing to that," Tara protested, raising her hand. "I mean, I won $8000 bucks, so I pretty much tell everyone I meet about Vegas."

"Yeah, Sash, I think it was more like you wanted us to not bring it up, and we promised you we would basically do the opposite," Glenn submitted with a wide, happy smile on his face.

Maggie giggled as she recalled exactly why Sasha wanted what happened in Vegas to stay in Vegas. "Oh yeah, that was where you had the thing with Big Red, wasn't it?"

"Y'all have got to stop calling him that," Sasha retorted, her eyebrows raised seriously.

"I can't even remember his real name now," Aaron cut in, adding to the pile-on.

Michonne was finishing up the last of her wine as the name came to mind and she blurted it out. "Abraham!"

"Yes!"

Rick laughed as he glanced over at Michonne, wondering if she remembered as well as he did being able to hear Sasha with her 'friend' in the next room. "Yeah, that definitely should've stayed in Vegas," he commented wryly.

Sasha rolled her eyes, playfully hitting Rick's foot with her own. "Oh, you been quiet all night, and now you wanna speak."

"I'm sorry, but he was terrible."

"Like, the worst," Michonne agreed, finding herself absentmindedly grinning at him. "And he smelled like… cigars. And sweat."

Sasha covered her face in shame as the rest of the table, including Maggie's father and sister, laughed heartily at the details. "Y'all are the ones that are terrible," she sighed.

"Oh wait, remember Rick and Michonne were fighting like the entire first half of the trip," Rosita recounted for everyone, chuckling tipsily at the two of them. "Like, wouldn't even sit next to each other at dinner."

"I remember they were fightin' about somethin _stupid_ ," Daryl smirked at his friends. "Rearranging seats and shit."

"Yeah, what was that even about?" Sasha tried to recall, glad that the spotlight was off of her.

"Toothpaste," Michonne answered quietly, shy to confess how ridiculous they'd been. But indeed, their spat had been the very definition of ridiculous. She caught Rick's eye, and he was smiling back at her, probably because he was thinking the same. "It was not my finest moment."

"To be fair," Maggie interjected to defend her best friend, "Rick should know that Michonne doesn't play about her spearmint and baking soda."

"No, she certainly does not," he was quick to acknowledge. Lesson learned. He was surprised when she lightly hit his arm and they were suddenly laughing in unison. The tension they'd been wading through throughout the evening seemed to finally be evaporating.

"That was a good trip, though," Aaron nodded as the laughter died down, taking his husband's hand as he did. "We've gotta do that again sometime."

"Next year," Glenn insisted. "We can all go hang out with Michonne in Paris."

"Or was it Madrid," Tara teased her, a giant grin on her face as she gazed at their globetrotting friend.

"That may be the only way we see her again," Rick added. He meant it as a joke, but made sure to smile at Michonne again, hoping she would take it as one.

"That's very funny," she nodded in response to all the jabs. "I promise, from now on, I go wherever you guys go."

"Well," Hershel chimed in when he saw an opening, quietly clearing his throat as he sat forward. "Perhaps you kids oughta use this opportunity to _go_ on back to your hotel."

As the table laughed, mostly in response to still being called kids, Maggie took her father's hand, recognizing that it was likely way past time for them to go. They did have a wedding to prepare for, after all. "Daddy, are you kickin' us out?"

"I mean, you don't gotta go home," he chuckled, checking his pocket watch to see that it was just about midnight, "but it's past my bedtime, so y'all do have to get the hell outta here."

Amused by his frankness, because she knew he thought of her friends as more of his own kids, Maggie stood with her father to give him a giant hug. "Thank you, Daddy," she grinned at him before addressing the rest of the table "Thank you _all_ for comin' out tonight. I feel like I've been waitin' for this weekend my whole life, and y'all've started it off perfectly," she nodded, gazing at each of them. "I can't wait to see y'all bright and early in the mornin'."

The reaction was another mixture of groans and light applause as the group began to disperse, most of them saying quick goodbyes as they knew they'd be back together within a matter of hours. Rick was one of the first few out of his seat, ready to all but disappear from the farm. Even though dinner and the rehearsal before it had been a pretty lighthearted affair, it certainly wasn't easy being paired with Michonne. All the strained small talk, having to pretend he was interested in her new life without him, it was draining.

"Hey, Rick," a voice called after him before he could grab his jacket and make a run for it.

He turned to see Daryl approaching, though he noticed Michonne wasn't far behind, likely just as ready to go as he was. He nodded, acknowledging his friend. "What's up."

"You still gonna swing by, or you headin' in for the night?"

"Oh. Umm…" Rick scratched at his beard, recalling the few details Daryl had given him about a couple of their friends playing a set at a local bar. Trying to decide if he wanted to drink his thoughts away, or just get a good night's sleep. "What time are they playin'?"

Before Daryl could answer, Michonne had approached, grabbing her own jacket from the coat rack beside them. "What are you two up to?" She'd directed it more to Daryl than Rick, but hoped he wouldn't mind the intrusion, considering they'd ended dinner on a light note.

"We were gonna hit up Northside for a bit," he revealed casually as he looked over to Rick. "Does she know Jesus?"

Rick was tempted to make a joke at her expense, because that was how their relationship went for all the years he'd known her. But he decided against it and simply nodded, not wanting to make things any more awkward by calling her a heathen. "Yeah, they've met."

"Well he's doin' a set over there. Should come by."

Rick found himself eyeing Daryl, maybe even glaring at him as he waited for Michonne to speak. And he really wasn't sure whether or not he wanted her to come.

"Sure, I'll go," she shrugged. She looked to Rick, detecting some uneasiness from him, and she wondered if maybe he did mind her encroaching on their plans after all. "Unless you don't want me to…"

"No, I… you should," he stuttered, struggling to look her in the eye at the moment. "It's just drinks and music. It'll be fun."

She eyed him for a moment, questioning his true thoughts on the matter, but figured it didn't matter much one way or the other. A couple of days from now, this would be over, and they could go back to the way they were. Or weren't. "So Northside Tavern?"

"Yup," Daryl confirmed, draping an arm over each of their shoulders. "Just follow me."

"Well don't insult the lady," Rick cut in to defend her, albeit kiddingly. But no girlfriend of his, ex or otherwise, would be so clueless. "She knows how to get to Northside Tavern."

"Hell, I dunno, with her new fancy life, I figured she might've forgotten."

She giggled as she glanced at both of her friends. If she could call Rick that now. "I know how to get to fucking Northside Tavern."

"So you didn't forget about us?" Daryl continued to taunt her.

"Get off of me," she joked, elbowing him as she laughed. Although in truth, she was thankful for his presence, as it seemed that she and Rick needed some kind of buffer - at least until they'd gotten a few more drinks in them. "Should we invite any of the others?"

"Yeah, Tara's gonna roll with me," he confirmed, releasing Rick from his grasp so he could check his phone. "You said you were gonna tell Jessie to come by, right?" he asked him.

Michonne looked between them again, inwardly questioning whether that was someone she should know but had forgotten. But the look on Rick's face said he wasn't too keen on her name being brought up. "Who's Jessie?"

"She works with Rick and Glenn," Daryl replied, distracted by his texting. "She's cool as hell, though."

"Someone you're interested in?" she grinned, already excited by the prospect of Daryl Dixon seeing someone for more than a night. "Do I get to put my matchmaking skills to work?"

"Nah, that's all Rick," he answered without thinking, shoving his phone back into his pocket. As he realized that might've been too much information, he looked to Rick regretfully, "I mean…"

"Oh." Michonne turned to Rick too, surprised, but at least she now understood his strange expression. "Well…"

"She's just my date to the wedding," he shook his head, feeling his face growing warmer the longer they stood there, all three of them staring at one another self-consciously. "I don't even know if it's that. She just wanted to come."

Michonne continued to smile, mostly to hide the effect of the figurative blow, but somewhere inside of that, she was actually glad to hear that Rick was moving on with his life. What a relief to know she didn't completely ruin him when she walked away. "I mean, that's fine," she nodded, her eyes flitting downward, fixating on his boots. It seemed that she was the one who couldn't look him in the eye now, and maybe it wasn't as fine as she was trying to believe. She and Rick had been sitting side-by-side for hours now, and he didn't even offer a hint that he might be dating someone else. And she didn't ask, because maybe somewhere, in the back of her mind, she would always think of him as hers. This weekend wasn't starting at all the way she was expecting. "Shall we go?"


	2. Thanks For Playing, Try Again

"Nice shot."

Michonne glanced back at Rick with a coy smirk on her face before watching her 4-ball go whirring into the corner pocket. "Don't patronize me, Grimes."

"I wasn't bein' patronizing," he promised with a small, amused chuckle. He took a sip of his Jack Daniels as he waited for her to take another shot. "I call 'em like I see 'em."

"Uh huh." She eyed the pool table for a long time, trying to decide on her next play, her thumb rubbing at the tip of her cue as she contemplated her move. "When did you get into pool all of a sudden, anyway? We've never done this before."

Rick looked up from his fixation on her hand, shaking his head as he tried to think of the answer to her question. "I've always liked it," he shrugged. "Maybe we were just too busy doin' other things."

She bit her lip, trying hard not to react to his obvious innuendo, and instead noticed that he'd pulled out his phone for the second time in three minutes now. "Where is your girlfriend anyway," she asked, making her way around him to continue studying the table. She knew that assigning that title to someone else bothered him, but she enjoyed watching him bristle every time she said it. "We've been here almost an hour."

He simpered at the fact that she was clearly trying to annoy him, but he was doing his best to maintain what little cool he'd managed in that hour. A little music and liquor had gone a long way to easing the tension between them; it felt like they'd reestablished the rapport he was used to them having, and he didn't want to fuck it up. "She got lost," he answered simply, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "She'll be here in a minute."

Michonne raised a curious eyebrow, thinking back to the conversation they'd _just_ had back at Hershel's. She was amused, to say the least. "Who doesn't know where Northside Tavern is?"

"She just moved down here," he shook his head, already seeing where she was headed with her line of questioning. "And again, she's not my girlfriend."

"All right," she conceded, though the cheeky smile wouldn't leave her face as she watched him blush. And she continued to prod him for information, genuinely interested in what his life looked like beyond her. "And she's a teacher?"

"The new art teacher," he confirmed.

"Hmm."

Rick took another sip of his drink, watching as Michonne meandered around the table to stand beside him and take her next shot. His eyes focused in on the way she leaned her body over the edge, her delicious ass protruding. The perfect position for him to just drop his drawers and go to town on her right then and there. He began to lick his lips as he watched her. "You have a nice form," he commented as if he were coaching her.

She paused to glance back at him, having a pretty good idea of what he meant by that. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "A nice everything else, too."

Startled by the overt come-on, she took her shot without thinking, and completely missed the side pocket she'd been aiming for. "I hate you," she laughed. "So fucking much."

His eyes stayed on her face, absolutely mesmerized by her blinding smile, even after all these years. "Just bein' honest."

Michonne stood to face him again, eyeing his half-full glass as she listened to the bar crowd clapping in the not-so-distant background. "Are you drunk already?" she wondered.

"I'm gettin' there." He grabbed his pool stick handed her his drink. "Hold that for me?"

"Yes, sir." She rolled her eyes and instantly took a big gulp of the brown liquor, leaving very little for her opponent. Receiving a disgruntled look from him in return, she answered with an offhanded shrug. "I have to catch up."

"You've got plenty of time to catch up." Still, he didn't hesitate to leave her with it, sauntering toward the other side of the table where his 12-ball was just at the edge of the side pocket.

Michonne kept her eyes on his legs as he walked, completely captivated by that swagger of his. Speaking of good forms… "So how long have you and Jessie been dating?" she continued her line of questioning, attempting to sidestep all the naughty thoughts swimming around in her head. "Sounds like she's met everybody."

"We're not dating," he said flatly, "and she hasn't met everybody."

"Everybody but me?"

He cocked his head to the side, effectively shrugging in reply. He wanted to say that she was the only one that mattered, but he refrained from getting so candid so soon. "She didn't know anyone here. I'm just being nice."

She stared back at him, knowing him well enough to know that was probably true. "Hmm."

"Stop sayin' that," he sighed, hating how inscrutable she could be sometimes. "I mentioned I didn't have a date to the wedding, so she's comin'. But we're friends. That's it." He leaned over the table, successfully taking his shot, and then looked to her for approval. Or lack thereof. "Nothin', huh?"

"I'm not gonna compliment you on the easiest shot ever, Rick."

"You're cold."

"We've already established that you're better than me at this. Stop seeking validation."

He moved back toward her side of the room and retrieved his glass from her clutches. "You're one to talk."

"Well that's a low blow," she grinned back at him, though mildly impressed as she quirked an eyebrow at him. "I can think of a few times you needed me-"

"Nope," he cut her off mid-sentence, already knowing where she was headed with it. "I feel like we need more drinks."

His cute little drunken smile told her that they probably didn't, but the whiskey had successfully lubricated the evening, to the point where she'd almost forgotten that they hadn't spoken in the three months prior. It was like picking up where they left off – or even better than where they'd left off, considering that moment in time wasn't particularly great. "I want a margarita," she told him, already knowing he was going to ignore her, because she didn't get along very well with tequila.

With a quick nod, Rick left her with their table, confident it would still be there when he returned, and waded through the crowd to make his way to the bar. Of course it was where he found Daryl, perched on one of the few barstools in the whole filthy place, nursing a beer and a cigarette at the same time. He was watching their buddies' band play, so absorbed by it all, he didn't even notice Rick approaching.

"You havin' fun?" he called out to his friend over the music.

Daryl looked back, somewhat startled to hear Rick's voice, especially when it accompanied the goofy smile on his face – a smile he hadn't seen in months now, not since Michonne left. "Looks like you are."

"I am," he admitted, bashfully scratching at the back of his neck, his intonation sounding more like a question than an answer. He didn't know what caused the sudden shift between himself and Michonne – maybe they just needed a little space to breathe and be themselves again – but he didn't particularly care either. So long as they could be okay. "Things are goin'... strangely well."

"Yeah? Like y'all'll only need one car to get home kinda shit?"

"I mean, we are goin' back to the same hotel, but I wouldn't go that far," he chuckled. He stepped up to the bar, the bartender already preparing his drinks before he could order. "I mean, maybe it's just for tonight, just for right now, but it's just… old times good."

"So that means y'all already fucked in the bathroom?" he joked, having a pretty good idea of what 'old times' were like for those two.

"Jesus," Rick sighed, trying and failing not to blush. "I'm just tryin' to get through the weekend with my dignity in tact."

Daryl nodded, glad to hear the news, if for no other reason than not having to watch his friend mope around for the next couple of days. "Good for you, man."

"Good for _you_ ," he retorted, accepting his two new neat whiskeys. "You know I wanted to strangle you when you brought up Jessie."

"Hey, I said I was sorry," Daryl raised his hands in surrender, still truly contrite about his fuck-up. "I told Michonne I was just fuckin' around."

"Well now she's convinced that I'm dating her, so thanks for that." It was obvious Michonne was just teasing him, but he still hated the idea of her thinking he'd moved on when he'd spent the last three months doing just about the opposite.

"Well it got you two talkin', so I'm not apologizing again."

"Yeah, you just stay over here," he said, finishing their conversation just before the rest of the bar erupted into more applause. And with his fists full of Jack Daniels, he returned to where Michonne was waiting for him, handing over her drink with that same happy smile on his face that he left with. "Whose turn was it?"

"Still yours," she gestured, accepting the alcohol just as gleefully. She couldn't help but notice how annoyingly sexy he was in that stupid dirty cap, that gorgeous jawline of his so prominent, it was staring back at her. And his lips. _Fuck_ those lips for being so pretty and wet and stealing her focus, refusing to give it back. "Unless you wanna go watch the band for a bit…"

He glanced back at her, his brow furrowing as he picked up his cue. "You don't wanna play with me anymore?"

Michonne nearly spit out her drink laughing at him, her tipsiness causing her to take his statement sexually. And she punched him in the arm for only intensifying all her wicked thoughts. "You're the worst."

"What did I say?" he grinned, feigning ignorance. "I like playin' with you."

"Yeah, I know you do," she smirked, her voice dripping with innuendo. She picked up her pool stick and stepped back from the table, giving him space to continue the game. "I just figured we could use a break, but if you wanna keep going..."

Rick was about to respond with another flirtatious quip, but before he could speak, a familiar face emerged from the crowd, and all of a sudden, his time alone with Michonne had obviously come to an end. He rolled his eyes, reminded of how much he still hated Daryl at the moment.

"There you are!" Jessie waved, relieved to have finally found her friend.

"Hey," he casually greeted her, glancing at his watch for the time. "I'm glad you made it."

"Yeah, me too," she sighed. She noticed the woman perched a few inches away from Rick and offered a polite smile. "This place is so hard to find. I think I must've driven past it three times before I realized it was here."

He chuckled, but didn't respond, looking to Michonne to introduce her. "Jessie, I want you to meet my friend Michonne. Michonne, this is Jessie."

Michonne smiled back, offering her hand, though she couldn't help but notice how stiff Rick had suddenly become in her presence. "It's good to meet you," she offered.

"You, too," she grinned, looking around the small, crowded tavern. It was the definition of a dive bar with its grimy decor, from the sticky floors to the smoky atmosphere that was almost too much for her to handle. There weren't even enough chairs for most of the patrons. "So this is where you guys hang out?"

Rick shrugged, taking a seat on the table beside Michonne. Being next to her was the only place he felt comfortable, he was realizing. "It was our spot in college, and we just never really stopped comin' back."

Jessie nodded, her eyes landing back on him. Even though it was definitely not what she was expecting, she could see where it could be fun after a few drinks. Especially the dance floor. "Well, I guess I should catch up," she decided, noting that Rick and his friend were enjoying their own drinks already. "Where's the bar?"

"Right through all those people," he pointed back toward the front of the room. "Just look for Daryl."

"Got it," she nodded, wading through her purse for her card. "You guys want anything?"

"We're good," Michonne answered for both of them, mostly out of habit. But she was glad when Rick didn't protest. "But thank you."

"Okay, then I'll be back in a sec."

They both watched Jessie walk away, Michonne giving Rick a knowing gaze once she'd faded into the crowd.

"What?" he asked, detecting hints of judgement in her stare.

"That's her, huh?" With a name like Jessie, Michonne figured she had to be white, but she supposed she expected an artist to be more striking. More unique. But the woman was dressed in a gray t-shirt and cardigan and jeans, her shoulder-length blond hair in a ponytail. Average height, average weight, average face. She was just so... average.

"Umm. Yeah..." he chuckled, standing from the table so that he could face her. He ended up moving in so close, he was damn near between her legs. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"No," she snorted in response, her eyes flitting from his chin to his shirt, roaming over each of the buttons as she tried to stop herself from imagining unbuttoning them. "I'm just surprised that after me, you would go for… her."

"Somebody's gettin' cocky," he smirked, resting his open hand on her thigh. The liquor had done the same for him, it seemed.

Michonne tried not to react to the contact, but she wanted so badly for him to slide his hand up further. "I just think you deserve better," she said quietly.

"Well I guess it's a good thing I'm not goin' for her then."

She smiled back at him, finally, truly believing him for the first time since he'd said it. She'd been wondering if his denial was perhaps about trying to spare her feelings; and by ribbing him about it, maybe she was attempting to do the same, a means of protecting herself from whatever feelings she might have about it. She was good at using humor as a defense mechanism. But if he was going to stick with that story, she would take his word for it. Especially if that meant she could keep flirting with him without stepping on any toes. "Duly noted," she said. She held up her glass, gesturing for him to raise his, and they clinked them together before taking a sip. "To a good night."

Rick eyed her carefully as she took her drink, noticing the drops of whiskey left on her lips as she finished the swig. And maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but he wanted so badly to lick it off, he could taste it in his own mouth. Instead, he just nodded and held up his glass as well. "To a great night."

* * *

Another hour later, they were, indeed, enjoying a great night. The bar had thinned out a bit by 2:00am, the band having finished up their set. But the music and drinks continued, so the group did, too. It was to the point that Rick and Michonne seemed to have forgotten about everyone else as they flirted their way through several more games of pooll, while their friends dropped in and out to spectate.

"You know, I'm startin' to think that I've been had," Rick declared, staring at how many balls he had left on the table, and how few his opponent did. "You said you weren't good at this." Then again, he should've known better, because Michonne was good at everything.

"Maybe _you're_ just not good at this when you're drunk," she commented, eyeing him playfully before taking her next shot.

He walked up on her, so close that his hip brushed against hers. "So you're sayin' you got me drunk?"

"You were the one buying whiskey like it's water," she reminded him. She smiled to herself as she sent her 8-ball rolling toward the corner pocket diagonal from her. "So maybe blame yourself."

"And you just miraculously get better the more you drink," he noted.

"I might've been a little dishonest about my skill set."

He nodded as she stood to face him, those all-consuming eyes of hers daring him to have a problem with it. He only smiled in reply, and his drunken gaze inadvertently darted downward, where he couldn't help but stare down her shirt. They were standing so close, he had a perfect view of her cleavage, practically heaving against him.

"Hey, guys?" Jessie called out to them from the jukebox a few feet away. "If you're done playing, I was hoping to play a round with you, Rick."

Michonne glanced over to Jessie, realizing that she had probably been anticipating them finishing up, when they didn't really have any designs on stopping anytime soon. "Shit, I didn't realize you were waiting," she submitted apologetically.

"I didn't know you were either," Rick appended, hesitantly stepping back from Michonne. "I would've told you we were havin' a bit of a war goin' here. Best outta seven."

"Ah," Jessie nodded, feeling like an idiot for standing there watching them for the better part of half an hour. "Well that's why I was here," she smiled awkwardly. "To hang out with you."

"I'm sorry. I thought you just wanted to watch," he chuckled.

As the two of them continued to reset for their next game, Michonne glanced at Rick's friend, noting how pitiful she looked, sitting there waiting for Rick to notice her. She could see that even if Rick didn't think of her as more than a friend, the feeling didn't seem to be mutual. And while Michonne didn't owe this woman much of anything - especially given she only had the weekend with him while Jessie ostensibly had an entire school year, at least - she felt bad for monopolizing his time. "Why don't you come join him," she suggested.

Jessie looked back at her in a mixture of surprise and confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"Come on over and help him out," Michonne repeated. "I mean, he clearly needs it."

Rick scoffed at her obvious dig as he rolled the last remaining ball across the table toward her. "Yeah, come on over," he agreed. "We need more drinks?"

Jessie grabbed her own watery cocktail from the top of the jukebox and moved to join them. "I'm definitely good," she declined, knowing she would be driving home within the next hour or so. "How many have you guys had anyway?"

"Shit, I'm sure we've finished a whole bottle at this point," Rick pondered, looking back at Michonne.

"I think we did," she giggled. "It feels like we did."

"You're a bad influence."

"Guilty as charged," she returned, her words ever-so-slightly slurred as they came out.

He was just about to turn back to Jessie when he realized what she'd said. Or what he thought she'd said. "Did you just say, 'Filthy as charged?'" he laughed.

Michonne cackled in response, showing off the full range of her gorgeous smile. "What?"

"No?"

"You're hearing what you wanna hear, Grimes."

"Or maybe I heard what you meant," he shot back, unable to contain the flirtatious smile on his face.

"Guys," Jessie inserted, clearing her throat. "Are we playing, or no?"

"Yeah, yeah, come on," Michonne was patting the table as she spoke. "You guys can go first since Rick lost the last game so epically."

"You're so kind," he retorted sarcastically. He handed an extra pool stick to Jessie and grabbed his glass, heading for where Michonne stood, wanting to survey the table from the cue ball's point of view. "Mark my words, Bordelon. I'm winnin' this one."

"Sure," she grinned. She'd always loved the way he said her last name – and her first name, for that matter – but especially now, with his drawl becoming more prominent after a few drinks. It made her insides tingle. His voice was so deep and warm and smooth, it was like taking a shot of whiskey.

As if he could read her mind, he handed over what was left in his glass and inched a bit closer to her. "Drink."

"Unlike you, that's not gonna make me play any worse." That didn't stop her from taking a sip, that welcome fuzzy feeling hitting her hard as the alcohol coated her throat.

"What game are you guys on?" Jessie questioned abruptly. She was wondering how much longer she would have to endure the two of them together like this, pretending she wasn't even there.

"This is our fourth," Rick replied. "I think."

"Are you in a rush?" Michonne wondered.

"No. Just wondering," she lied, examining the table herself. "So Michonne, you're up two?"

"Yep."

"For now," Rick appended, still staring at his rival for the night. "Hell, I'm pretty sure that's why she hasn't moved outta the way. She's scared she's gonna lose."

"Oh, excuse me." She grabbed her pool cue and their liquor and backed up. "I didn't realize…"

"Uh huh…"

"So what does the winner get?" Jessie continued to inquire. "Just bragging rights, or are we playing for something?"

"Winner gets head from the loser," Michonne answered casually, causing both Rick and Jessie to look at her in shock. Her smile was bursting past her lips as she glanced briefly at her friend, and then settled on his friend. "I'm kidding, obviously."

"Of course," she replied, forcing herself to laugh. But with the way Rick kept looking at Michonne, she honestly wasn't sure it was a joke.

Rick began to set up for his shot, removing the rack from the surface, setting it on the hook underneath the table. "Bragging rights is all you really need in this group."

Michonne watched Rick from behind as he bent over the table to take the first shot. His cute little ass in those jeans. It was hard not to imagine him being similarly bent over her as he fucked her from the back. She took another drink, even though she knew the alcohol was only making her hornier at that point. "Good luck," she called out to him, purposely startling him as he made his move.

He stood up, watching as the cue ball barely broke through the pyramid, and he peered back at her with his head cocked to the side. "Really?"

She looked back at him innocently. "Sorry?"

"You see how she treats me?" he joked to Jessie. "Playin' dirty."

"Not cool," Jessie agreed, smiling back at him.

Michonne approached the table with all the confidence liquor could provide, eyeing Rick seductively as she returned their drink to his clutches. "You're the one that said I was filthy, so I'm not sure what else you expected."

He bit his bottom lip, watching her slink past him, circling him and the table like they were her prey. "Well thanks for proving me right."

"No problem," she grinned cockily. As she continued to analyze the table for the best route to go, she noticed the rest of their party approaching, both Daryl and Tara looking about as intoxicated as she felt. "Why are you two sweating?" she grinned at them once they made it closer.

"We were dancing," Tara answered, although she felt that should've been obvious. "You didn't see me on the stage?"

Michonne chuckled, because the stage was all of three inches off of the main floor. "I did not..."

"And when'd you get here?" Tara greeted Jessie with a high five. "I didn't even know you were coming."

"Just like an hour ago," she shrugged in reply. "Rick mentioned it earlier and I thought it sounded like fun."

"Did you like the band?" Daryl pointed at her as though he were defying her to say otherwise.

"Oh. Yeah," she nodded. "They were great."

"Where is Jesus anyway?" Rick wondered, trying to peer through the crowd to find him. "Did he leave already?"

"No, he's signing autographs," Tara rolled her eyes. "And taking girls' numbers that he's never gonna use."

"We were gonna head out in a little bit and kick it with them if y'all wanted to come," Daryl informed the rest of the group. "He lives over by Grant Park."

Michonne only laughed, already knowing she wasn't going to make it that far. The only reason she'd made it this long was because of the time zone switch and sleeping through her flight. "I'm gonna get off this train here then," she declared, her eyes finding Rick's for what had to be the hundredth time that night. "I need some rest so I can look good tomorrow."

Rick had to stop himself from telling her that she always looked good. But then, he figured she probably knew that anyway. "Party pooper."

"You're back in Atlanta for what? Two days? And you're gonna use that time to sleep?" Daryl teased her, though mostly for Rick's benefit, as he knew he wouldn't want her to leave. "Come on, 'Chonne."

"Well someone needs to be a responsible adult," she retorted, eyeing her other three friends in the wedding party. "We can finish our game, and then I'm gonna get an Uber back to the hotel."

"All right, but you're gonna be missin' out, girl."

She was pretty sure she'd be okay without sitting around in a virtual stranger's house, getting high and listening to more music. "I'm sure you'll regale me with the details tomorrow."

"Well," Jessie cut in, more than ready to move on to something else. In the little time she'd interacted with them that night, she understood that Michonne had been away for a while, from what seemed to be a very close-knit group. But she couldn't take all the fawning over her. "Should we go on with the game then?"

"Actually, you guys can keep going while I run to the bathroom," Michonne offered, handing over her cue to Daryl. "Play for me?"

"All right."

"And don't fucking lose to him," she warned. "I'm up two games."

"Hey, be careful in the bathroom," Tara reminded her. "It's actually even worse than it used to be."

She chuckled in reply, though she was genuinely scared to find out what that meant. Still, she drunkenly sauntered off toward the ladies' room, not particularly surprised when she heard Rick's footsteps behind her – she'd know the sound of those boots anywhere. His hand gently wrapped around her arm and she innately smiled before turning to face him. "Why are you stalking me," she tilted her head to the side, gazing at him as if it were her first time seeing him.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just wanted to be alone with you again."

She leaned against the wall, still staring him up and down, wanting him to move in closer. "In the tiny hallway of a dingy bar?"

"Anywhere." It was almost hard to believe he'd started off the evening barely able to look at her, because now, he couldn't stop. He'd had his eyes on her since they walked into Northside Tavern, and he was feeling particularly brazen, ready to take the opening she seemed to be giving him. Her face was absolutely breathtaking, her sexy stare consuming him. He moved in close, placing his hands on her slim hips as he licked his lips. God, she was gorgeous. "Stick around," he whispered.

Michonne wasn't sure what to say, even though her body seemed to be very intently reacting to his touch. His boozy breath bathed her face, and when he looked down her shirt, his hands roaming up her sides, she could feel it on her neck. God, she wanted to kiss him. "Rick…" But she also had a pretty good idea that it was the alcohol conducting this silent conversation between them, and the last thing she wanted was a drunken hook up with her ex the night before her best friend's wedding. "We broke up for a reason," she said, placing her hand on his chest to put the slightest bit of distance between them.

Rick looked down disappointedly, wishing she wasn't insistent on reminding him of that. With the night they'd been having, he could barely remember what that reason was. All that mattered to him were the million reasons they should've still been together.

"Jessie likes you," she submitted softly, dipping her head to try and meet his gaze again. "Maybe you should give that a try."

"An hour ago, you said she wasn't good enough for me," he recounted for her since she seemed to have forgotten. "Maybe you should stop using her as a way of keeping me at arm's length," he added, granting her wish to look her in the eye. He studied them, in fact, searching for signs of what she really wanted here. When she left him, he had to accept that she was doing what she wanted, that she was going off to be happy. But everything about the moment told him that she wanted this, wanted him, so he couldn't understand why she was quite literally pushing him away. "Tell me you don't feel something right now."

Truth be told, she was feeling a lot of things, including _him_ and that bulge growing in his pants, which certainly wasn't helping. And she wanted to say as much, or at least something funny to ease the tension between them, but nothing was coming out. It was impossible to lie to Rick - he knew her too well to even try - so her defense mechanism was failing her now. "I should go," she said eventually. That was all she had.

"Michonne…" He sighed, obviously exasperated, but backed away, allowing her space to leave, as much as he didn't want her to. On the bright side, at least he got to watch her walk away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She smiled back at him, thankful for the reminder that whatever this was, it wasn't over yet. Probably not by a long shot. "Yes, you will."


	3. Edge Of Desire

"You think I should've gotten a tan?" Maggie asked out loud, peering at herself in the mirror in front of her.

Michonne sent her eyes in her friend's direction, but was careful not to move her head. "I think you're perfect," she answered very simply and genuinely.

"I think _you're_ perfect," she shot back in equal earnestness, "but that's not the point. Every time you and me are in a picture together, you make me look like a sheet of paper."

"Oh, shut up," she grinned, trying not to laugh. But she knew it was true. The same thing happened in nearly every picture she took with Rick - either he was washed out, or she was a shadow. "Well we're not taking selfies, girl. They're professional pictures."

"Yeah, I know…"

"I just think you should look like yourself on your wedding day."

Maggie let out a small sigh, closing her eyes again so that her makeup artist could paint her eyelids. "Why does it sound so strange when you say it out loud?"

"It doesn't feel real, does it," Michonne agreed. "Still feels like just yesterday when I met you guys and I thought you were the most annoying couple on the planet."

"Yeah," Maggie giggled, thinking back to her twenties, and how stupidly in love she was with Glenn. Of course she still was, but she'd learned to rein it in a bit when necessary, at least. "We were pretty fuckin' bad."

"Remember that time Rick and I left you two in Jekyll Island?"

"Oh my god," Maggie practically squealed in amusement. "I remember comin' back up from the beach and Glenn was like, 'There's no way they left us.' And I didn't even know you as well as I do now, but I was like, 'No, I'm pretty sure they did.'"

"And it's not like I didn't warn you guys," Michonne was grinning.

"No, you did," she acknowledged with another quiet chuckle. "Honestly, after that trip, that was when I knew we were gonna be great friends."

"Well see, now I feel bad for telling Rick how much I hated you after that," she joked.

Maggie giggled at the revelation, even though she knew her friend was only about half kidding. "So long as you like me now."

"I love you now," Michonne assured her. As her makeup artist moved on to her cheeks, she took the opportunity to get a quick peek at herself in her mirror. She looked almost unrecognizable from the exhausted mess that'd arrived that morning. "You're the only person I would do all… this for, you know."

"I do know that," she answered, her tone turning serious. "But I'm just so glad you're here," she added. "Atlanta isn't the same without you."

"I'm glad I'm here, too." She wanted to smile, but didn't, for fear of impeding her contour. "I don't know when I would've come back here otherwise, so I guess I should thank you for making me face this shit head on."

Maggie frowned at her, taking special note of her choice of words. "Things were really so bad that you have to refer to it as _facing_ it?"

"Well no," Michonne allowed with a small laugh. "I made it that way in my head because of Rick. But so far, everything has been… good."

" _Everything's_ been good?" she repeated, thinking she must have heard her incorrectly. "That's not quite the adjective I was expectin' after how weird you two were at dinner last night."

"I know," Michonne nodded. "But we ended up going to Northside Tavern after, and we loosened up a bit. Maybe a lot."

"Just you and Rick?" she nearly gasped.

"No, no, Daryl and Tara were there, too. And they invited this girl Jessie," she explained, hoping she was remembering her name correctly. "But Rick and I were alone for a lot of the night, with a lot of Jack Daniels, and…"

"And you had sex?" Maggie inserted excitedly.

"No," Michonne responded flatly. "There was some heavy duty flirting, but it didn't go any further than that."

"Well how is that possible?"

"Not that I didn't want to," she admitted, still trying not to giggle. "But I didn't wanna turn this into an episode of Friends with some drunken hookup the night before your wedding."

"I would've been fine with that," Maggie grinned. "Every wedding needs a good story to go with it."

"Oh god."

"So that means you two have one more night to make this work."

"Shut up," she laughed.

"You just tell me what I need to do to get this show on the road," Maggie continued to joke. "I can keep you two liquored up all night, maybe 'accidentally' get you locked in a room together. Stuck on an elevator…"

Michonne had given up all pretenses of staying still for her makeup artist, as she was practically cackling at her friend. "Why are you like this?"

"Because I love you, and I love Rick, and I know you make each other happy," she revealed, gazing over at her friend. "So if I can put you two back together for even a day, I'm gonna do it."

"I guess pairing us together in your wedding wasn't enough."

Maggie returned to looking at herself in the mirror, a self-satisfied smile creeping across her pretty face. "I think that remains to be seen…"

* * *

An hour later, Michonne was looking on proudly, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to ruin her makeup as she watched Maggie put the finishing touches on her wedding look. She'd finally put on her regal ivory dress, her hair and makeup completed to perfection, and her somethings old, new, borrowed, and blue were all in place. Now, the blushing bride was simply taking in the moment, enjoying the quiet of their dressing room before she stepped into what would inevitably be chaos for the rest of the day.

There was a soft knock at the door just as the clock struck 3:00, and Michonne was quick to answer, laying her eyes on Rick for the first time since they'd shared a ride home earlier that morning. A smile involuntarily tugged at her lips upon seeing him, and she snuck out of the room before they could disturb Maggie. "Hey," she greeted him, needlessly reaching out to touch his lapel. He looked so damn handsome, all dressed up in his dark grey suit, his fluffy curls just barely tamed for the occasion. Very suddenly, she was bombarded with all the feelings she'd been trying to run away from the night before. "Shit, I forgot how nicely you clean up," she said, once again trying to use humor to avoid the situation.

Rick grinned back, his face flushing in part due to the compliment, but mostly because Michonne looked absolutely stunning. Not only was the burgundy color of her dress and lips simply gorgeous against her brown skin, but her hair swept up into an elegant chignon showed off her full perfect face. The halter top of her dress put her beautifully toned back on display, and the split in the flowing skirt gave him an unfair view of one of her splendid thighs. She was breathtaking. "Yeah, I guess you look okay, too," he joked, his eyes scanning their way back up her body again. "How close is she?"

"She's ready," she promised with a slight nod. "All the girls are."

He should've figured as much. Michonne didn't believe in being late, and if she could help it, no one else did either. "Well Glenn's been ready since I got here, so…"

She chuckled in reply, finding that tidbit adorable. She was trying so hard not to stare into his eyes, as she had a habit of getting lost in them when she wasn't careful, but she was completely unsuccessful in the moment. "Well… Jamie went to – she went out to the the garden," she eventually revealed through a quick stutter, referring to the wedding planner, "so maybe you can go let her know we're all ready?"

Rick couldn't help but smile at the fact that she was still so good at bossing him around. It was difficult not to still feel like a couple when it seemed like so little had changed between them. "Yes, ma'am," he was happy to grant her. "I guess… I'll see you in a few minutes."

Michonne nodded, watching as he disappeared down the corridor, thinking of how in the very-near future, she'd be walking down the aisle with this man. And not at all in the way she once imagined she would be. Knowing it was probably silly for her to think that way, considering she was the reason it wouldn't be happening, but this weekend had brought a lot of lingering feelings to the surface, and she simply could not figure out how to ignore them. Being away from Rick, it was much easier to act like she wasn't affected by the love she still had for him. But now, it was all she could think about, and she was legitimately excited for the opportunity to walk down that aisle with him.

_Young and full of running_  
_Tell me where is that taking me?  
_ _Just a great figure eight or a tiny infinity_

Several minutes later, everything was in place, with the wedding guests in their seats and Glenn standing at the altar awaiting his bride, while the rest of the party lined up just outside. Beth and Glenn's younger sister, Ginny, followed by Rick and Michonne, then Daryl and Sasha, Rosita and Tara, and Aaron and Eric. Maggie stood at the back of the line with her father, gazing happily at all her friends.

"All right, people, I'm cueing the music!" Jamie declared, storming into the foyer and making her way to the bride. "You ready, beautiful?"

Maggie nodded, feeling herself on the brink of tears, and she was so thankful for the invention of waterproof mascara in that moment. "I'm so ready," she grinned, looking over to a beaming, proud Hershel.

"All right," she clapped excitedly, "then here we go! Move swiftly, move gracefully. Each pair gets thirty seconds," she reminded all the couples. "Have fun! And smile!"

As Jamie disappeared back out to the garden and The Zombies' "This Will Be Our Year" started to play, Michonne glanced at her wedding partner with a wide grin. "You ready?"

Rick nodded, grappling with whether to take her free hand or to link arms, glancing back at the others to check what they were doing. Ultimately, he decided on the hand – it just felt right. "Yeah…"

"Why do you look nervous?" she pressed, accepting his grip. She squeezed her bouquet in her other hand, feeling her palms suddenly begin to sweat, and she wondered if perhaps she was passing her own feelings off on him.

"I dunno." He was staring straight ahead at the plush garden filled with beautiful people, and it was hard not to imagine this might've been what his own wedding would've looked like. "I guess because I always thought when we walked down the aisle, you'd be wearing the white dress."

Michonne winced, feeling a pang of… something in her stomach as his words hit her. Longing? Regret? Hurt? She wasn't sure. But the fact that she'd been thinking the same, it was certainly a bit bittersweet, if nothing else. "I'm sorry," she offered sincerely.

"Don't be sorry for bein' happy," he whispered back.

Of course, that was the thing - she didn't know if she was happy. She thought she was. Her new life in New York was good. She was a chef at one of the top-rated restaurants in the greatest city in the world. It was a life that had her studying in Paris one night and catching trains to London the next morning. She was finally living the way she wanted, and that _should've_ made her happy. But one night with Rick, and she wasn't so sure. Because she was happy before, too. Their life together had been a simple one, but it was good. And she seemed to have forgotten that for a while, but it was all coming back to her now. And in the end, it was just impossible to say whether one choice was better than the other. It was too much for her to even process in that moment. She was so relieved when Beth and Ginny took off ahead of them, and the conversation was forced to cease, as it meant they were next. With two deep breaths and their fingers interlocked, Rick and Michonne strode down the aisle together. They were all smiles, as they'd been directed, but behind those beautiful grins, both of them were stuck thinking about what could've, and perhaps should've, been their future.

_Love is really nothing but a dream that keeps waking me_  
_For all of our trying we still end up dying  
_ _How can it be?_

It was a perfect day. The unseasonably warm mid-October breeze danced across the gorgeous garden scene, swirling colorful falling leaves and wisps of hair in the air. A lone acoustic guitar played a whimsical version of "Here Comes the Sun" as the wedding attendants and attendees all turned for the doors, awaiting Maggie's grand entrance. And her entrance was indeed grand, looking absolutely radiant as she appeared. Her short brown hair was in waves, delicately pinned back by a burgundy flower to match her bridesmaids, per Michonne's suggestion. And her makeup tinged on the dramatic side, with dark red lipstick and golden overtones to illuminate her bright green eyes. She was a striking bride.

And Glenn was just as beautiful in his lavish black tux, with his expensive new haircut to match. His facial hair was minimal, because he knew Maggie preferred him without it, and his immaculate smile was the only decoration his handsome face needed. He had tears in his eyes as he watched his soon-to-be wife promenade down the aisle with her father. He knew she would be exquisite, but he simply could not believe that this was actually happening. She was agreeing to be his, and that he was hers. It was almost too surreal to fathom that he'd gotten this lucky. And as she finally reached him, he grinned brightly, took her hand into his, and whispered, "Jackpot."

The ceremony went on as those things tended to do, with readings and proclamations and everyone in attendance thankfully holding their peace, and as the happy couple prepared to read their vows to one another, Rick couldn't help but picture what he would've said when he married Michonne, had the day ever come. He'd always imagined it would be something simple, straight to the point, because that was how they were with each other. But maybe, for this occasion, he would've found the words that he often didn't have to truly express what she meant to him. But then he quickly realized that it didn't actually matter now – the opportunity was never going to present itself.

"Well all right," Maggie took a deep breath, her strong southern accent tickling the air. She took a moment to collect herself, already wiping at tears before she'd could even speak. "So it goes," she started softly, "'The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more. That plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.' And I've found that in you, Glenn Rhee." Her face was flinching, trying desperately to hold back the river of tears that were trying to burst. "Um. My daddy said that the first time you fall in love, it changes you forever, and no matter how hard you try, that feelin' just never goes away. And thank God it doesn't," she grinned at him. "I don't want it to. I am who I am because of you, Glenn. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I've ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, every day we're together is the greatest day of my life. I will always be yours."

Glenn was beaming, watching as the tears streamed down Maggie's cheeks as her vows came pouring out. He couldn't believe how happy he was in that moment. "You had me at hello," he whispered just loud enough that only she could hear.

"I didn't say Hello, you dork," she whispered back with her thousand-watt smile.

"You quote _The Notebook_ and I'm the dork," he shook his head softly. Still grinning like a crazy person, he squeezed her hand and began to speak his own simple vows, which also came from one of his favorite movies, "I will love you my whole life, Maggie. You, and no other."

Maggie nodded, still crying happily as she shakily whispered back, "You, and no other. Forever."

It was then that Rick noticed Michonne across from him, wiping at her eyes, and he felt a slight twinge in his chest. He knew she was likely just happy for their friends, but was there more to it than that? Was she thinking about the same things he was? Reminded of all the words she should've said but never did? But then he caught her eye, and instead of revealing his matching feelings, he offered a silly face, making her playfully roll her eyes at him. And instead of returning their attention to their best friends exchanging rings, they stayed locked on one another, smiling at each other as if they were the only two people in that garden. Or at least wishing they were.

_Don't say a word just come over and lie here with me  
_ ' _Cause I'm just about to set fire to everything I see  
_ _I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe  
_ _There I just said it, I'm scared you'll forget about me_

* * *

"Hey, go get me some cake."

Rick looked up from his plate and at the long line of people waiting for a slice of wedding cake, then turned to his dinner companion. "I feel like you just want me to go so you can take some of my food."

Michonne chuckled as she chomped down on a piece of bacon, amused that he really thought she'd need an excuse to do such a thing. "If I wanted your food, I'd just take it," she shot back with her mouth full.

"Then why can't you get your own cake?"

"You'd really make me stand in that line?" She gazed at him with her best set of puppy dog eyes, hoping it would move him out of his seat. She even hit his knee with hers, but then instantly regretted the contact when she felt a shiver down her spine. "Please?"

"Don't give me that face," he shook his head, refusing to look at her any longer, and instead resumed eating his pulled pork sandwich.

"Rick." She leaned into him, her shoulder resting against his as she began to pick at his plate, taking a piece of jalapeño cornbread for herself. "I'll make it worth your while."

"No you won't," he scoffed, though he was unable to contain his smile as he said it. He really enjoyed how comfortable she was with him. When she allowed herself to be, anyway. "And stop taking my food," he added, stealing a piece of the bacon from her plate.

Michonne let out a frustrated sigh, realizing that she was going to have to get this cake for herself. "I miss the days when you were a gentleman."

"Well I miss the days when you were my girlfriend, so I guess we're even."

"Fuck you," she grinned, punching his thigh in response.

"Yeah, I miss that too," he smiled back, his eyes scanning the room for nothing in particular. He zoomed in on the cake line again, unable to discern why the hell it was so long. "I could see if they were serving peach cobbler or somethin'. I can go to Publix and get a good piece of cake."

"Not this cake, my friend. It's sweet potato, with cinnamon cream cheese icing," Michonne explained to her excitedly. "It's one of the best cakes I've _ever_ had."

"How have you already had some?" he frowned, examining her plate. She'd been by his side since they sat down to dinner, so he couldn't imagine how he would've missed that.

Giggling at his confusion, she moved out of his personal bubble and back into her own, taking another bite of her potato salad. "I went with Maggie for the original tasting."

"So it sounds like you don't even need any more then."

"That was five months ago, Rick!"

"Yeah, but I know how you like to watch your figure," he teased, "so I'm really doin' you a favor."

"More like you like to watch my figure," she joked back in a mumble. She began to push back from the table, prepared to get herself a piece of the coveted cake. "You want some?"

"You know I'm gonna go," he said, gesturing for her to sit before she could fully stand. "Let me just finish my food?"

"Of course." She found herself staring at the side of his face as he ate, taken by him and his adorable demeanor. He was sweet to her, still such a gentleman, even when she didn't exactly deserve it, and would've understood if he wasn't. And as they sat there, she felt compelled to give him a kiss on the cheek, but quickly thought better of it, knowing she probably wouldn't want to stop there once she got started.

"I bet you can't get barbecue like Fox Brothers up in New York," Rick commented, noticing she'd suddenly gone quiet.

Michonne chuckled, resting her arm over the back of his chair as she used her other hand to take a piece of his okra. "No, definitely not," she admitted. "I might miss this, and maybe King of Pops, most of all."

He smiled, thinking of the many summer weekends where the two of them would go on afternoon strolls with the sole purpose of finding one of the popular popsicle carts, deciding on a few different flavors to share on the way home. "You know I haven't been back to our favorite food truck since you left?"

"The Blaxican," she gasped, staring at him in disappointment then. "You weren't supposed to abandon them, Rick!"

"Well whenever I went, he _always_ asked about you, and I didn't wanna have to tell him that we broke up."

"Oh, well good job making me feel like shit," she laughed, attempting to keep the mood light. She loved the idea that they could sit there and joke and just be with one another for a few hours without it feeling even the slightest bit strange. With all the weird emotions being brought to the surface, she really wasn't sure how this reception would go – it was a long banquet table that somewhat prevented them from really interacting with the rest of their friends. But it was okay. It was better than okay, in fact. Maggie's little plan to put them together actually seemed to be working. "So are you gonna dance when you finish eating?" she decided to ask.

"I dunno," he sighed, glancing over to the semi-full dance floor as the bass from Ghost Town DJs thumped on the sound system. "I think I need a few more drinks before I can commit to that."

"Oh, is that my cue to get us more champagne?"

"Considering how you act when you drink, maybe that's not the best idea."

"How _I_ act?" Michonne nearly shrieked. "You were the one all over me."

"Yeah, and you tried to act like you didn't want me back."

"Okay," she giggled, feeling her face growing warm just thinking about all the flirting they'd done the night before. "Excuse me for trying to be an adult."

"Well what's the fun in that?"

"The fun is in not making mistakes I'll regret," she shot back with a cheeky smile.

He nodded, taking the last of his cornbread and splitting it in half to share with her. "So now I'm a mistake?"

"Never," she answered him quietly, gratefully accepting his offering. "But giving in to… whatever we were doing last night would've been."

_So young and full of running  
_ _All the way to the edge of desire  
_ _Steady my breathing, silently screaming  
_ ' _I have to have you now'_

"Fair enough." He let out another small sigh as he realized his dinner was done, and they would have to separate, momentarily at least. He was enjoying being so close to her that he could smell her rosy perfume, especially now that it was infused with hints of barbecue sauce. He wondered if they looked as much like a couple as it felt like they were in the moment. "You ready for that cake?"

Michonne had nearly forgotten about her request by then, hesitantly pulling back so that she was no longer leaning toward him. "Finally," she returned, her eyes fixating on his body as he stood from his chair. He was really wearing the hell out of that suit. "Thank you, by the way."

"I mean, you said you'd owe me, so…"

She was smiling up at him, and he was grinning down at her, and just before they could get lost in one another yet again, Rick's 'date' for the night managed to make her reappearance at the exact wrong time. Speaking of mistakes one might regret… "Hey!" Jessie greeted Rick in her typical chipper tone.

"Hey," he answered, feeling almost startled by her arrival, despite already seeing her during the cocktail hour of the reception. "You havin' fun?"

"I am," she nodded, her dark eyebrows raised to underline the point. "I just befriended a very lovely couple at my table, who'd like to give me a dog?" she explained to both Rick and Michonne. "And I just had the best cake of my life, so… I thought I'd come over and see if you wanted to dance."

"I told you the cake was good," Michonne smirked, hitting Rick's arm. She was fairly certain, though, that she was going to end up getting it for herself.

"I actually… I was just about to take a stab at that line," Rick answered regretfully, hating to turn Jessie down after he'd essentially ignored her the night before. Even if he didn't necessarily want her there, he wasn't one to be outright rude. "Maybe I can-."

"No, go dance," Michonne cut him off before he could finish his declination. "I can get my own cake."

"Are you sure?" he frowned, watching her stand. It was something he actually really wanted to do for her - it was such a simple thing, but he knew it would've made her so happy.

"I can wait," Jessie also offered. "Dance floor isn't going anywhere."

"Don't be silly," she told them both, already pushing Rick to walk ahead of her to meet Jessie on the other side of the table. "I'll catch up with you later," she told him.

"That better be a promise," he quietly called after her. A bit dumfounded by the quick change in plans, he watched Michonne head off to the cake line, enjoying a little too much the way her dress swayed with her perfect hips before eventually heading off to join Jessie.

_Wired and I'm tired_  
_Think I'll sleep in my clothes on the floor_  
_Maybe this mattress will spin on its axis  
_ _And find me on yours_

Meanwhile, Michonne was quite content to stand there in the middle of the beautiful ballroom, people-watching as she waited for her turn. Maggie and Sasha were laughing animatedly at the front table, while Beth and Hershel sat close by, gazing at what was probably Beth's phone. The way they were smiling, she liked to imagine they were going through pictures from the day. Over at the bar, Aaron and Daryl were taking advantage of the free drinks, which she made a mental note to head for next. Rosita and Tara were on the dance floor with a host of other people, happily shaking their asses to some Montell Jordan, which made her smile brightly; it transformed into a full-on laugh when she noticed Rick not far away, doing his dorky white boy dancing that made it look like he lacked any semblance of rhythm. But she adored that he was okay with being a complete dork sometimes. It somehow made him sexier to her.

"'Chonne, you know you don't have to stand here," Glenn declared, finding his friend inexplicably waiting in the middle of a fairly long line.

Michonne looked to her right, pleasantly surprised to find that the groom had already linked arms with her and was sweeping her toward the front of the queue. "Are you kidding me?"

"You're in the wedding," he frowned, figuring that would've been an obvious perk. "Of _course_ you don't have to wait for cake."

"Well I wish I'd known that before I avoided this line for the past hour," she chuckled.

"I mean, it's the least we could do," he said, graciously passing her the first plate available. He waited for one for himself before the two of them meandered toward a spot closer to the bar. "So besides needlessly waiting in lines, are you having a good time?"

"Well you know how I am about my food," she started with a mouth full of the delectable delicacy, "so this could've been the worst wedding ever and I would've been straight."

Glenn grinned, happy to hear they'd gotten that right, if nothing else. Because Michonne absolutely would've told them about it otherwise. "And being back home this weekend has been good?"

She shrugged, the jury still being out on that verdict. "It's been… interesting."

"Uh oh."

"I mean, I don't know. None of it has gone how I thought it would go, but I think that's okay?"

"Well," he also shrugged as he used his fork to cut himself another chunk of cake, "I know how much you hate when things don't go according to plan, but… I think that's definitely okay."

"How 'bout you, Rhee," she asked, cocking her head to the side as she gazed at him. He looked so dapper and grown-up, she almost couldn't believe this was the same goofy guy she'd met ten years ago. "How's it feel to be married?"

"Literally exactly the same," he chuckled, his smile as wide as his face. "Like, I dunno what I expected, but it kinda feels like we had a big party just to let everyone know that we're gonna do this forever. Just so you know."

"Well, when you put it that way," she granted, already scraping icing from her plate, "that's pretty much all a wedding is."

"Right," he nodded. "I don't know why the hell I was so nervous."

She offered him her sweetest smile of reassurance, though as the song changed to a downtempo ballad, her eyes momentarily went back to scanning the dance floor for Rick. "Well everything was absolutely beautiful," she went on to tell her friend. "I mean, I can never get married now, because it's just not gonna be better than this, so thanks."

"You're very kind," Glenn laughed appreciatively. He turned back to the table where Maggie was, ensuring he was good and happy before turning back to Michonne. "Hey, do you wanna go dance?"

"Sure," she chuckled awkwardly, a bit surprised by the offer. Still, she was happy to follow her buddy to the dance floor, where he took her into a friendly embrace as they began to slow dance to SWV. And she couldn't think of a more appropriate song, because she did, in fact, get weak whenever she was too close to Rick. To the point where she couldn't decide whether to look his way or avoid him altogether. She settled on the latter, mostly fixating on her and Glenn's feet as they swayed.

"Michonne, are you all right?" her dance partner chuckled, noticing her unease.

"I don't know," she freely admitted. When she looked up, she could see Rick just a few feet behind them, looking wholly uncomfortable with Jessie, which made her laugh. The fact that she could have Rick in a heartbeat if she really wanted to, and she was avoiding even addressing it... "I feel a little crazy right now, honestly."

"Is it Rick?" Glenn questioned, despite already knowing the answer. He watched her nod, and he glanced back at his friend, hoping that what he was about to say next wasn't a betrayal of his confidence. "You know he's still totally in love with you, right?"

Michonne smiled genuinely, something about hearing it that way, out loud, making her particularly giddy. "I do know," she whispered beneath the music. "But that's not… enough."

"But you still love him, too," he asked, already having an idea of that response, too.

"I do."

"Then since when isn't that enough?"

"Since he's here, and I'm there, and long distances and love don't mix."

Glenn knew that had been the reason for their breakup, and he didn't want to argue with her about it, certainly not on his wedding day, but at the back of his mind, he'd been hoping that being near Rick again would perhaps change her mind about a few things. "Well maybe you guys should rethink that," he gently suggested.

She smirked, resting her head against her friend's shoulder. "Trust me, that's all I've been doing."

_Don't say a word just come over and lie here with me  
_ ' _Cause I'm just about to set fire to everything I see_

Back at the other corner of the dance floor, Rick was having quite similar thoughts as he watched Michonne twirl around the fancy room with his best friend. He wondered what they were talking about, what she was thinking about, why she looked so happy and sad at the same time. He'd caught her eye a couple of times, but he couldn't quite discern what was on that beautiful mind of hers.

"Hey, Rick," Jessie cut into his thoughts, gazing intently at his distracted face until he gave her his attention, finally. "Why are you watching Michonne?"

"What?" he frowned, feeling like he'd been caught in a lie he never told.

"Who is she to you?" she pressed, knowing he'd heard her first question. "She's obviously not just a friend, but I don't know what else."

Rick let out a shaky breath, unsure of exactly how to answer the question truthfully. She was right – Michonne certainly wasn't just a friend. And she wasn't just an ex either. She wasn't _just_ anything. Once upon a time, not so long ago, she was his world. And he wasn't prepared to say she wasn't anymore. So he was left with something undefinable, stuck in this limbo between everything and nothing. "I don't know either," he whispered. But he was so ready to get Michonne out of there and find out.

_I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe  
_ _There I just said it, I'm scared you'll forget about me_

* * *

Lyrics: "Edge of Desire" - John Mayer (Battle Studies)


	4. Why Don't You Come Back To Bed?

The wedding was officially over, Maggie and Glenn having vacated to their honeymoon suite for the night, while the remainder of their guests slowly trickled from the reception, off to enjoy their midnight hours. Michonne had been quietly biding her time, waiting for an appropriate moment to sneak away, and perhaps text Rick to see if he wanted to hang out after a quick change of clothes. But instead, it was Rick who found her at the end of the festivities, making sure that she kept her promise to find him later. So the two of them ended up in the middle of their hotel's swanky bar, doing a lot more talking than drinking, as Michonne sat with Rick's jacket draped over her shoulders, her shoes dangling from her tired feet. But she wouldn't have wanted it any other way, enjoying his company more than she had any right to. And she didn't quite know where she wanted the night to go, but she was already certain she wasn't ready for it to end.

"I'm surprised you're not already asleep," Rick commented, glancing over at his companion for the evening. She looked much too buoyant and bright to only be working on a couple of hours of rest. "I'm exhausted."

"My sleep schedule is all fucked up," she shook her head, smiling to herself as she stared down the bottom of her glass. "I'm not entirely sure of the time or the day right now."

"Sign of a good time," he smirked, feeling relief in that moment that their time wasn't quite over yet.

"Yeah, I did have a good time," she admitted, only truly realizing it as the words came out of her mouth. "Hanging out with the old gang. Seeing Hershel," she grinned wider as she thought of him walking Maggie down the aisle. "Glenn and Maggie are _married_."

He laughed at the way she said it as if he weren't aware. "Yeah…"

"Why is that so weird?"

"Because it still feels like just yesterday, we were all these clueless kids, just pretending to know what we were doin'." He rubbed at his beard as he recalled how young they all were when they met. "Now we're adults… pretending to know what we're doin'."

Michonne chuckled in agreement as she took another sip of her dwindling drink, particularly at the part about not knowing what she was doing. "My first few weeks in New York were so confusing and just… kind of terrifying," she quietly revealed. "Although in a good way, I guess. I just felt like that same twenty-five-year old girl that knocked on your door looking for an apartment."

"That's gotta be exciting," he noted, looking back at her with a bit of envy, a bit of awe in his gaze.

"It is. It's nice to feel like I'm being challenged again."

Rick nodded, taking a long sip of his rum and coke as he wrestled with whether he wanted to delve any further into a conversation about her new life. He'd been so determined to keep himself separate from it, not wanting to make himself any more miserable by hearing how well she was doing without him, but she just looked so happy when she spoke about it. He was being selfish in refusing to discuss it, and she didn't deserve that. "So tell me about your restaurant," he requested, turning his entire body in her direction. "What's it like? What's your favorite dish?"

"Oh, like you care," she snickered, gently hitting his thigh. "You don't have to do this."

"No, I do care," he insisted. "I keep tryin' to pretend I don't… or maybe I just didn't _want_ to. But I'll be honest, I fought with myself every day not to look up your place online, see what they were sayin' about you."

Michonne grinned at him, enjoying his surprising candidness. "Seriously?"

"I mean, yeah," he shrugged. "Much as I would've liked to, I didn't suddenly stop caring about you just because you left."

"Well…" She laughed quietly to herself as she tried to think of something meaningful to say, but her thoughts were mostly focused on the fact that this man whose heart she broke was still so kind to her. And not just in an affable way, but he showed genuine caring and thoughtfulness. He never made their breakup easier on her by being callous or stubborn about it, but in typical Rick Grimes fashion, he let her go with understanding and compassion and grace that she wasn't sure she deserved. "I don't know if describing it would do it justice," she finally replied, her demeanor turning timid.

"Try," he softly encouraged her.

"I guess... it's kind of magical," she admitted, biting her bottom lip as she envisioned her new restaurant - her new home - back in midtown Manhattan. "It's big, for New York standards. And it's got these gorgeous wooden walls, which gives the entire place this golden glow. And the seating is all plush, in this beautiful pinkish red hue. I dunno, it feels like an experience just walking into it."

"It sounds fancy as hell," he noted, grinning at the joy on her face as she described it all.

"It is. It's a bit old-fashioned, but it's cachet. It's got these lavish flower arrangements everywhere – I mean, the whole place is a work of art." She was shaking her head, still in disbelief that she got to experience it all on a daily basis. And suddenly, she remembered that she had a picture of herself inside the place, and began to search for her iPhone in her gold clutch. "You can actually… see it," she revealed, swiping quickly through her collection of photos until she landed on the one she was looking for. "Here."

Rick smiled as he took her phone, taking in the view of the vibrant restaurant behind her. But his eyes immediately zoomed in on the two people in the photo – Michonne, for one, looking gorgeous as ever in what looked to be a little black dress, along with a man he didn't recognize. He was a handsome dude, tall and strapping, with beautiful dark skin like Michonne's. He wanted to believe he was a family member, but Rick knew most of her family, and the way his arm was wrapped around her waist, his hand low on her hip, that likelihood was pretty low. "Who's he?" he simply couldn't help himself from asking.

She dismissively waved off him as well as the picture. "Just… a guy from my building."

His eyebrows raised in surprise as his gaze darted from the photo back to her. "You found a guy?"

"Not like that," she rolled her eyes, hoping he wouldn't make a thing out of it. "He helped me move into my apartment, so I invited him to the restaurant just as a thank you."

"Hmm." He set the phone back down on the bar, trading it for his drink.

Michonne immediately recognized his response as the same one she used whenever the subject of Jessie was brought up. "Don't do this," she chuckled. "It's not like that."

"Sure," he smirked, taking another sip of his watery drink as he eyed her over the rim of his glass.

"Rick." She playfully shoved his shoulder, seeing that he wasn't going to budge.

"What's his name?"

"It's Mike," she rolled her eyes again. "I don't even know his last name, because that's how much it's not a thing."

"All right," he conceded, although the position of this Mike character's hand on her hip still gave him pause. "Does _he_ know it's not a thing?"

"I'd say about as much as Jessie knows you're not interested in her," she quipped, trying to hold back her sarcastic smile.

"Oh, so then not at all," he joked in reply. Although that wasn't fair to Jessie – she did seem to eventually get the picture, despite him failing to draw an accurate one for her. She even left the reception fairly quickly after their one awkward slow dance, which was sure to make for an even more awkward Monday morning at work. And still, he didn't particularly feel bad about any of it. "Does that make us terrible people?" he wondered out loud.

"I don't think so," she frowned. "Should it?"

"Well these two perfectly nice people have taken an interest in us, for whatever reason, and we can't find a shit to give about them." His eyes landed on Michonne's neck and slowly roamed lower until they were on her exposed thighs. "I don't know about Mike, but… the only sin Jessie's committed is not being you."

Michonne felt a flutter in her stomach as his words hit her like a brick, and she flashed him a smile, partly to hide that fact. "Mike seems nice," she nodded, swirling her drink around her glass. "But I never even…" Her sentence trailed off into silence when she recognized that Rick's reasoning was precisely why she hadn't even thought to give the guy a chance. "Shit."

"What?" he chuckled, picking up on her peculiar expression.

"You've ruined all other men for me, Grimes."

"Oh, _I_ ruined things for _you_?" he repeated incredulously.

"You did," she was still smiling at him. "Turns out you're a tough act to follow. Apparently, no one should even bother trying."

"Yeah, well. Remember how you said I could do better than Jessie?"

"Vaguely," she shrugged, mostly just remembering being inebriated when she said it.

"Well I can't do better than you. And I figured that out a long time ago."

"Oh, hush," she grinned.

"I'm serious," Rick maintained, his blue eyes boring into hers in an effort to prove it true. "I knew it when we first got together," he went on. "Hell, just from that night in my truck."

Michonne giggled at the thought, her face growing warm as he sent her back down memory lane, arriving at the night their friendship quite suddenly turned into a relationship when they unexpectedly ended up having sex. In Rick's car. "Oh god."

"Yeah, you said that a lot that night."

"You are the fucking worst," she was practically cackling at him as she took another opportunity to touch him – or rather, punch him – on his arm. He had a way of making her laugh like no one else, and he probably knew it. "God, I miss you."

Her choice of words quickly sobered them both, Rick only managing to stare at her for several beats, inhaling her infectious smile. "Maybe you should put this down," he teased, slipping her glass from her clutches to set it on the bar.

"That's not news to you, is it?"

"That you miss me?" He shook his head, beginning to fidget with his own glass, tracing his fingers through the condensation that had formed at the bottom of it. "Surprised you would say it out loud, but… I would hope you'd miss me at least a little bit."

"More than you know," she mumbled, distracted as she watched his fingers work. She loved his hands in general, so beautiful and strong; his long fingers were rough but he used them so gently. "I kept trying not to think about you these past three months," she revealed, attempting to take her mind off all of the things she knew those hands could do. "Failing at it," she shook her head. "I kept imagining you next to me when I'd fall asleep. Sometimes it was the only way I could get there. Or I'd pick up my phone to text you something silly, just to get some sarcastic response from you that would make me smile. But I'd have to stop myself, because that wasn't our relationship anymore. And it took some getting used to."

"Did you get used to it?"

"I thought I had," she grimaced, looking up at him. "But then I got off that plane. I walked into this place, and I saw you standing there," she gestured toward the hotel lobby just a few hundred feet away, "and it felt like I'd been dropped off on my own doorstep. And even though I didn't wanna be, even though I ran away from home… it felt good to be back."

As her words hung in the air, Rick took another long gulp of his drink, unsure of how to respond to that. He wanted to ask if they could try again, work through the distance they were too scared to tackle the first time around. But he wouldn't have been able to take it if she said no, so he refrained from even putting forth the question. He just wanted to enjoy whatever time they had left, even if it was just this.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, noticing that he seemed to have gone contemplative.

"I'm thinkin' about how I don't want this night to end," he confessed. In his tipsiness, his eyes unapologetically settled on her lips and then danced their way up to catch her gaze again. "I don't care if we just sit here all night. Doing nothing with you is infinitely better than everything I've tried to do without you."

Michonne inhaled suddenly and sharply, his words actually taking her breath away. And even if it was the same sentiment she'd been feeling since they sat down to that bar, hearing it in his voice, with his sincerity, it was more intoxicating than any alcohol could ever try to be. "Maybe we should call it a night," she replied, having decided right then and there exactly how she wanted their evening to end.

Rick's expression immediately fell, figuring he shouldn't have played all his cards so quickly. Even if he wasn't revealing all of his feelings, he had been painfully honest, and he already saw how she'd responded to that the night before. He was supposed to tread lightly, and he did the opposite, scaring her away yet again. "Yeah, maybe so," he relented, pulling his wallet from his pocket as she stood from her bar stool. "Maybe we can meet for breakfast in the morning before you go?"

She realized that he hadn't quite picked up what she was putting down, which made her smile. He was so cute sometimes. "That's the plan," she hinted, using his shoulder for balance as she stepped back into her strappy heels.

Still oblivious, Rick left a couple of twenty-dollar bills between their empty glasses and turned to escort his companion to the elevators. He felt his lungs filling with disappointment with every step they took, and so he moved slowly, savoring the time they had left as he absorbed the views of the twinkling city around them. "Such a beautiful night…" he commented.

Michonne agreed, but didn't reply, more concerned with getting an elevator than anything else going on at the moment. In fact, she was already getting undressed too, removing Rick's jacket from her shoulders to hold in her arm.

"Where do you think everyone else went?" he wondered, still completely unaware that Michonne was already picturing him naked.

She turned back to him, her wandering thoughts interrupted, shaking her head. She hadn't thought about it, and didn't particularly care at the moment. "I don't know, but I'm glad they didn't invite us."

Rick frowned in response, but the elevator had arrived, and he wasn't sure there was any reason to continue the conversation. Instead, he followed her onto the car, pressing the button for his seventeenth floor stop before turning back to her. "What floor?"

Michonne eyed him, both curiously and seductively, realizing he still hadn't gotten the picture. "That one," she answered simply.

As the doors shut, leaving just the two of them in an encapsulated space, Rick swallowed hard, questioning whether she was saying what he thought she was saying. He didn't want to assume anything, especially given how things ended the night before, but the way she was looking at him definitely had him raising an eyebrow.

As they were whisked away to the top of the hotel, Michonne felt her stomach drop, being overtaken by the excitement of the moment. As she thought about the last time her body was pressed against Rick's, and just how much she'd genuinely missed that feeling. Before that moment, she wasn't even aware of how much she'd been aching for it. For him. And now, with him within her reach, her body was physically reacting, her insides pulsating even faster than her heart was beating. She was just hoping he had gotten the message by then.

And indeed, he had, closing the small space between them so that he was standing right in front of her. He moved in close, until she was pinned against the mirrored wall, both of them taking a deep breath before he went in for the kiss. They both moaned at the initial moment their lips touched for the first time since the last time, hers so full and soft, while his were wet and hungry. Neither of them were wasting any time, Michonne pushing her tongue into his mouth while Rick's hands moved down her hips, sneaking their way past the slits of her dress to touch the bare skin of her thighs. And of course they didn't stop there, Rick coercing those thighs around his waist, and she gladly obliged. Her fingers ran frantically through his curls as they continued their heated make out session, and he groped her wonderfully plump ass, his fingers already slipping inside her lacy thong.

"Are we gonna do it in here?" Michonne pulled away hesitantly to ask. Her breaths were heavy as she stared at his already swollen lips, wanting nothing more than continue devouring them.

Before he could answer in the affirmative, the elevator chimed, signaling that they were returning to the lobby. "Did we completely miss our floor?" Rick frowned, puzzled by the course of events.

"Shit." She quickly dismounted him, and ruffled her dress back into place as she moved to stand in front of him. They couldn't do anything about his flushed face, but at least she could hide his erection, she figured.

As luck would have it, the doors opened, and there stood their friends, Daryl and Jesus, just as startled to find Rick and Michonne as they were to be found. All four of them looked guilty before they could even be charged with anything.

"You two headed back out?" Daryl asked, his tone was suspicious as he noticed Michonne's hair falling out of its bun.

"Headed up," Rick answered for them. He trusted Daryl enough to keep the news to himself, whatever that news might've been.

"What are you two up to?" Michonne questioned as she watched Daryl press the button for the eleventh floor.

"Uhh… probably the same thing you're about to do," Jesus replied casually.

The remaining three of them laughed, mostly at the fact that none of them were under any illusions about what was going on here. Everyone in that elevator was about to get laid, and there was an implicit understanding that the rest of their friends wouldn't find out about it the next day.

"Well you two have fun," Michonne offered, trying not to giggle as she felt Rick against her backside. He was getting harder by the second, and she was so horny, she was actually squirming as she stood there. She was so relieved when they landed on that eleventh floor. "Hopefully I'll see you guys before I leave?"

"Wouldn't count on it," Daryl joked, leaving a quick kiss on her cheek before escaping the elevator with his friend. "I'll call you, though." He left Rick with a quick nod to congratulate him on whatever he had going on with Michonne, and then disappeared behind the closing doors.

Once they were gone, Michonne let out a small sigh, allowing her body to rest against Rick's. "Well I did not see that coming."

He wrapped his arm around her neck, keeping her close as he began to kiss the side of her face. "I know. This might be the first time since I've known him that he's slept with someone more than once."

"Maybe we should've known Jesus was special since he kept him around afterwards," she realized. "That first hookup was back in April?"

"Somethin' like that," Rick confirmed distractedly. His nose was buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling her delicious scent as he continued his kisses. "You taste just as good as you smell," he whispered.

No longer thinking about Daryl's sex life and more concerned with her own, she smiled at the compliment as she pressed her ass against his crotch. That familiar bulge pushing between her cheeks was making her wet already. "Fuck," she whispered, inadvertently and explicitly expressing her wants for the evening at last. She wanted him so bad she could taste him on her lips.

"That's the plan, right?" he replied, purposely echoing her response from just a few minutes prior. Hand in hand, the two of them escaped the confines of the elevator once it brought them back to Rick's floor. He led her down the long, quiet corridor, the two of them giggling like teenagers as he fumbled for his room key and tried to recall his room number through his lustful haze. Not to mention, the alcohol that certainly wasn't helping. If there weren't laws about such things, he would've been glad to go for it right there in the hallway.

The two of them wasted no time once they made it inside room 1704, Michonne dropping Rick's jacket at the entrance. She had just barely surveyed the dark room, figuring it identical to hers, before Rick stopped her where she stood, pulling her back toward him by her waist. Picking up right where they left off before they were interrupted in the elevator, his hand snuck beneath her dress and didn't hesitate to continue inside her panties, roaming gently over her slit as he kissed the back of her neck.

Michonne quietly moaned at the contact - the first intimate touch she'd felt in months. She realized then that she hadn't bothered to get a wax, not having planned for anyone to see her naked that weekend. But Rick didn't seem to mind, and she didn't either, all those wandering thoughts ceasing as he pushed her lips apart and began to properly finger her already wet pussy. He moved in and out of her gently but deftly, his strokes long and deep, pushing her closer to the edge with every touch. He gave special attention to her pulsing clit, flicking it softly with his thumb, while his index and middle fingers did the work inside her. He felt so good she could barely stay standing, and she wished he would let them fall to the floor. She had to reach out to the nearest wall for leverage, leaning over in delicious agony as he fucked her with his fingers. He must have known it would have particular resonance now, after she'd gone so long without getting any. Because fuck. "Fuck," she whispered, echoing her own musings.

Rick felt the same sentiment, his dick throbbing in his pants as he plunged into her wonderfully warm depths. She was so soft and wet, just imagining being inside her had him on the verge of an orgasm. As eager as he was to get her clothes off, he just needed to touch her first. Desperate to feel what he'd been missing for months now. This was the longest he'd gone without sex in his adult life, and he wanted to savor this moment. Revel in every second he got with her, because he wasn't sure when he'd get it again.

"Rick," Michonne breathed. She was practically bent over in pleasure, trying to give him easy access to her opening. A part of her wanted him to just whip out his cock right then and finish the job, but he was obviously going to take his sweet time with this, and she was happy to let him. Even as she felt her juices begin to stream down her thighs and her nipples hardening as she stood there twisting beneath his touch, she didn't really want him to stop. She just wasn't sure how much she could endure. "Take off my dress," she instructed him hurriedly.

He was hesitant to stop fingering her, but he couldn't resist that command. Especially not when he knew what was waiting underneath that dress. As she returned to standing position, he quickly untied the bow holding her halter in place, happily watching it fall to reveal her naked torso. He continued to pull it down her hips until it dropped to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a thong and her heels. If his dick wasn't ready to go before, it most certainly was now, pressing against his boxers, just desperate to get inside her. She was simply exquisite, her tiny waist and pliant breasts, with this delectably rotund ass staring back at him. He'd _almost_ forgotten just how much he enjoyed this. Not just her body, but their sex life in general had been pretty fucking sublime.

Michonne turned back to face him, anxious to get him naked, too. But her efforts were thwarted when Rick instead went in for a kiss, his lips needily consuming hers; then making their way downward, lapping at her neck, and then her tits, feverishly sucking at her rigid nipples while she squeezed his curls in her fingers. She began to quietly moan as he gently bit at her skin, his tongue circling her chocolate buds before taking one of them into his mouth again, then the other. It sent shivers down her spine the way he devoured her. "Why do you still have clothes on," she whispered, her face buried in his hair. So much for allowing him to take his time.

"Sorry," he grinned, pulling back to get a look at her face. "I've just missed this."

She nodded, understanding and even agreeing on some level, but she had an aching need to feel him inside her, and she was on the verge of combustion. She needed to get the first round over with so they could _enjoy_ the next one. Or two or three. "Just take off your clothes," she insisted, already fumbling with the buttons of his shirt while he unfastened his pants.

She had just barely gotten his shirt open, his hard, flat torso on full display, when his dick came into view, springing out of his lowered boxer briefs at full attention. Michonne let out a quivering sigh, her mouth watering at the sight, and she was tempted to drop to her knees and wrap her lips around him right then. But Rick had gotten the message that she was ready to fuck, so he didn't waste any time getting to it. He hoisted her up against the nearest wall, not even bothering to fully step out of his pants. Stroking his length while she wrapped her legs around him for the second time that night, he stared into her eyes as he prepared to penetrate. She nodded back at him, answering his unasked question - she was ready.

Not another second passed before he yanked her panties to the side and inserted himself into her, groaning at the splendid sensation. She was so fucking wet, he could barely stand it - he could barely stand up, in fact, his knees going weak as he went in deeper. "Fuck," he exhaled.

"Fuck," she whispered in agreement. She was equally blindsided by the pleasure, her pussy clenching around his thick cock while her arm wrapped around his neck. She felt like she'd just gotten on a ride without having anything to hold onto. He felt so unbelievably good, pushing into her slowly but roughly, his hips doing the work to make sure she felt every inch of him. He knowingly teased her, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in, the head of his cock tickling her clit when he did. He had her whimpering his name as he fucked her, as he grunted against ear with every unyielding thrust. "Rick…"

He couldn't even say anything in response, too entranced by her bouncing tits to find words. He took one of them into his mouth, sucking fervently as he continued to pump into her. As his beard tickled her skin, her jagged breaths matched the sound of her back hitting the wall, only turning him on even more as he squeezed her supple cheeks in his hands. She felt so fucking good, soft in all the right places, and wet on top of it. Though her panties were getting in the way of his unbridled pleasure, so he ripped the lace from her body in one swift motion, causing her to contract herself around him even tighter.

Neither of them were prepared for that, Michonne's orgasm hitting her like a freight train, making her toes curl and her knees lock as she squirted all over him. "Oh god," she was purring from the pleasure. The first cum was the deepest, it seemed, because she couldn't even hold her legs up anymore, her whole body going lax with her climax.

"Did you just finish?" he grinned, feeling her warm juices coat his dick.

She could only nod, but she knew if he kept smiling at her like that, she would be on her way toward another orgasm before too long. "Just hurry up," she breathed, still clutching desperately at his sweaty neck. "I wanna fuck you next."

As if he wasn't already hanging over the edge of the cliff, the thought of her riding him into oblivion certainly would've pushed him off. But more than anything, he was just glad to hear that there was a 'next.' That even when he finished in a matter of milliseconds, they weren't done; not yet. Because if he had anything to do with it, this night would never end.


	5. Friends, Lovers, Or Nothing

Rick could barely breathe, much to his delight, as Michonne's hot tongue bathed his skin, his throat in particular, as she grinded on top of him, riding him toward his third orgasm of the night. Or morning, rather, as it was just rounding the corner to dawn, and the sun would be creeping into the sky quite soon. But neither of them cared, all too content to fuck the night away, their loud moans and the smell of their sex filing the opulent hotel room. Michonne's soft, sweaty tits grazing his hard, sweaty chest as her hips undulated and gyrated around his cock. In and out and in again, feeling every centimeter of his hard length as her wet walls clenched around him. "God, you feel so good," she whispered between breaths.

"You do too," he just managed to get out. Which was an understatement considering he couldn't even close his mouth from the unbearable pleasure. Her pussy was so fucking good, deliciously wet on his dick and fitting him like a glove. And the way she rolled her hips all slow and sensual, keeping a rhythm that existed only in her head, it was mystifying. It didn't make sense how good she was and how much he'd missed this, this closeness – her perfect body pressed against his while they exchanged bodily fluids. His hands moved slowly down the muscles of her back until he was gripping at her ass cheeks, intoxicated by the feel of them jiggling ever-so-slightly beneath his fingers.

Michonne pulled herself up, resting her palms flat on Rick's stomach for better leverage as she rode him. She needed something to hold onto as her thighs were getting tired, and her slowly building orgasm was causing her to lose control of the rest of her body. Not to mention, Rick grabbing her ass that way was only making it worse. The sound of their wet bodies slapping together only fueled her to pick up her pace. "Rick," she moaned, her perfectly manicured fingernails digging into his abdomen.

He didn't even flinch, though, too lost in ecstasy to notice that she would leave marks in his skin. In fact, the way he was squeezing her backside, he might have been doing the same. "Shit, Michonne," he growled, unable to hold back any longer, his release following quickly thereafter. He felt himself spill into her before either of them truly knew what was happening, complete with a satisfied smile to match.

"Rick!" she hissed, noting that familiar sated look on his face, quickly following the sensation of his cum filling her up so she knew he was likely done for. She continued to ride him, in hopes of getting off before he could go soft again – she had gotten _so_ close, but alas, no cigar.

"Sorry," he chuckled back at her. He generally wasn't one to finish first, and he didn't exactly mean to this time, but he was also quite certain he could make it up to her. He pulled her hands from the vice grip they had on his waist and sat up from the bed, sending her falling backward in one swift motion. His fingers gently caressed her creaming slit as he moved between her legs, smiling as he explored her folds, all too happy to finish her off in a different way this time.

Reminded of exactly why and how much she'd missed him, Michonne giggled as he dipped his head between her thighs and she began to run her hands through his unruly curls. She just loved the way it flopped around as he devoured her. And devour her, he did, his tongue slipping inside her pussy with a long, slow stroke, causing her to cry out loudly. Her thighs immediately began to shake, wet with both their juices as she closed them in on his face. "Rick," she shamelessly whimpered as he licked her clean. "Baby…"

Rick grinned again at the name she'd given back to him, and took the opportunity to go deeper, burying his face within her delicious depths, his tongue circling her wet center as she pulled his hair in response. He expertly flicked her clit beneath his thumb, making her whimper and whine with pleasure, the smile not leaving his face as he took in her unrestrained reaction to him. Her pussy looked like a cake, layers of chocolate covered in his own icing, and he ate it like one, too, unapologetic in his ardent consumption of her.

She came quickly, though definitely not quietly, clutching the bedspread in one hand and a fistful of Rick's hair in the other while urgently moaning his name. She felt her cum trickling down her ass crack, and she continued to writhe beneath his motions as his tongue tried to catch them. With a long exhale, her body went slack, truly unable to take any more, and he took that as a sign to ease up, falling back to his own corner of the bed with a laugh. Michonne found just enough energy to join him, crawling to the top of the bed to settle into the pillows beside him. She leaned into him to show her appreciation, her fingers and hair splayed across his bare chest as it heaved up and down, clearly exhausted from the good work he'd just done.

"That was good," she whispered, just in case her reaction didn't tell him as much, her fingers softly running through the light hair on his chest.

"It was," he sighed, licking his lips; smiling as he thought about how he'd missed the taste of her on his tongue. The two of them stayed quiet for several blissful minutes, Michonne enjoying the beat of his heart against her ear, while he watched her head rise and fall with his chest each time he inhaled and then exhaled. As if they were one again, for the moment at least. And he couldn't stop smiling, because this was the moment he'd been hoping to get back ever since she left. Even as the wedding approached and the notion of seeing her again became reality, he wondered if something like this could be in the cards for them. It seemed so unlikely, given the state of their relationship, or lack thereof, yet here they were.

"What are you thinking about right now?" Michonne broke the silence to ask. With such little time left, the last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep, so she opted for conversation instead.

He smiled at the sound of her tired voice as he rested his free hand beneath his head. "I was actually just wonderin' if… before you got here, did you think this would happen?"

She tilted her head in his direction, trying and failing to see his face from her position. "As in, did I expect us to have sex this weekend?"

"Well 'expect' is a strong word, but I guess that's what I mean," he conceded with a small shrug. "Yeah."

"No," she scoffed. "Not even a little bit."

"Well did you hope it would?" he prodded.

She shook her head, hearing the smile in his voice, and she hated to disappoint him, but her answer remained the same. "No, Rick."

He narrowed his eyes at the top of her head, as if he could see into her mind by doing so. "I don't believe you," he replied with a short yawn. "You were on an eight-hour flight, knowing you were gonna see me, and it didn't cross your mind once?"

There was a long pause while Michonne tried to recall everything she did think about on that flight. And while Rick certainly came up more than once, the idea that they would end up naked in bed together somehow never surfaced. "Honestly, I was so anxious about seeing you again, I don't think I had space to consider this could happen."

"Hmm."

"You did?"

"Oh, I definitely thought about it," he proudly admitted with a wide grin to match. "Not that I thought it would actually happen," he appended, scratching the back of his head. "Things were so weird between us, and I just wanted to get through the weekend in one piece. But I definitely had a moment of 'what if' when I realized we'd be seein' each other again."

"Ohh," she nodded slowly. "So… you invited someone else to the wedding to stop yourself from pursuing me?" She grinned up at him, amused with herself as she waited for his response.

"You're an asshole," he chuckled back, also tickled by her and her sarcasm. "Even if that were the case, as we can see, it didn't work, so…"

"Yeah, might've even backfired."

"Tomorrow at work should be fun," he mumbled to himself as he considered how he was going to approach Jessie the following morning. Or whether he should at all. "I dunno, I think I just wanted to be over you. Even if it meant forcing myself to be."

"A futile endeavor," she smirked, her index finger running in mindless circles around his left nipple. She was thinking of how she'd essentially done the same, burying herself in her new life just to keep from thinking too much about the most important part of her old one. "I will say, though… even if I wasn't expecting it, I'm glad it happened."

"Me, too," Rick whispered, enjoying her soft touch. With another sigh, contented this time, he began to twirl his fingers through Michonne's locs, recalling all the Sunday mornings they used to have that looked exactly like this. "Is this what it would've been like if we'd stayed together?" he wondered out loud.

Michonne opened her eyes, smiling at the thought, but shook her head against his chest. "Maybe," she granted. "I like to think so. …But I'm genuinely scared of what the distance would've done to us."

"I dunno, I think it did us pretty well," he joked, his warm hand wiping the remnants of sweat from her hairline.

"No, you're right. We should definitely just stop talking to each other and only meet up every three months for sex."

"Like a proper married couple," he quipped, smiling at his own wittiness. When she hit him in response, he laughed, but also clarified, "I didn't really mean it like that. Just that we were able to pick up right where we left off. Nothing really changed."

"Yeah…" As her voice trailed off, she opted to reposition onto her stomach, allowing herself a perfect view of his face. She would be leaving soon, and she wanted to savor every minute she could with those gorgeous eyes. Resting her chin on his chest, she ran her fingers across his clavicle, reveling in the feel of his soft skin.

But Rick immediately noticed the shift in her demeanor, and he stared back at her curiously. "You don't think so?"

"No, I do think so," she smiled sadly. "I just… I know it wouldn't be like this all the time. And I'd want it to be."

"Well you could always come back," he offered, his voice growing faint as he timidly hoped she would reply favorably.

"Rick…"

"I just miss you so much."

His tone was so earnest, matching the expression on his face, and she could feel her heart breaking. Because she missed him, too. But she didn't come back home just to backslide into to the life she left behind, and she had to close her eyes, because if she looked at him any longer, he could probably get her to do just that. "Please don't do this," she quietly pled. "It's been such a good night."

He let out a deep breath, the one he'd been holding as he waited for her response, and he stared up at the ceiling, trying to decide whether to push the conversation further. He didn't want to ruin their good time either, but at that point, what did he have to lose? "Why do you hate this place so much?" he asked.

She frowned, feeling attacked by the question, and in turn, didn't have a valid answer. "I don't ha-"

"Your life was good here," he cut her off, staring back at her again. His blue gaze begging for a reason for why she insisted on running away. Away from him. " _Our_ life was good here. We were best friends, we had a home, our families close, we had fun, no drama. I thought we were happy," he recalled of their seven years together. "And then all of a sudden, you weren't. And it was like watching a light fade. Your love… decayed." He shook his head, a sniffle escaping his nose as he did his best to hold back his tears. "I mean, maybe not for me, because I think mostly still there. But you definitely fell out of love with your life, and I don't know why."

Michonne was also blinking back tears, because it killed her to literally see on his face how much she'd hurt him. When it was never even about him. "I just wanted… more," she admitted, her voice just barely squeaking out over her emotions.

"More than me?"

"I didn't want an ordinary life," she whispered, those tears escaping, streaming down her cheeks and dropping to his bare skin. "And I forgot that you were extraordinary. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I let that leave my mind, because I miss you every single day, Rick." She pulled herself up from his body, wiping her face as she settled onto her knees, feeling frustratingly naked in every sense. "It hurts to breathe sometimes, because that's how much I miss you," she shook her head, staring back at him. "But I can't just... come back."

"And I don't wanna live in New York," he mumbled, rehashing his own reasons for letting the love of his life slip between his fingers.

"I know," she nodded sadly. And then she chuckled to herself, imagining him catching the 4 every morning to get to his job at some pretentious private school in downtown Brooklyn. No longer Coach Grimes, perhaps, but still the hot history teacher with the country twang, who adored the idea of expanding kids' minds and worlds. "But if you did…" She stopped herself from going on, careful not to try and convince him to do something he didn't want to do.

"I don't even know who I would be there, Michonne."

"You'd be you," she frowned. "Just… in a different zip code."

He nodded, even if he didn't necessarily agree. He just couldn't imagine leaving Georgia – he'd lived there all his life, and that's where he'd planned to stay, close to all his family and friends. Everything that mattered to him was within a fifty-mile radius of Atlanta. Everything but Michonne. "Do you even want me there?"

Her scowl deepened as she shook her head in disbelief. She stared out of the window at the ascending sun, literally watching as their time together dwindled to a close; and even worse, it was ending on a bad note. "How can you not _know_ that I do?"

His watery eyes flitted downward, avoiding her gaze as he shrugged bashfully. "You never asked me to come."

"Because I didn't want you to feel pressured," she was quick to retort. "I didn't want you to wake up in five years with a life you didn't want and then resent me for it."

Rick scoffed at her reasoning, solely because it was the exact reason he knew he couldn't ask her to stay. He didn't want her to have any regrets; it was why they broke up instead of opting to try harder. All these preemptive strikes to avoid the _possibility_ of heartbreak somewhere down the road. "I thought I was supposed to just be content with the years we got. They were good. And some people don't get that much good in a lifetime," he nodded. "But after this weekend… I don't know how I'm supposed to let you leave again."

"Rick-"

"And I know I don't have a choice in the matter," he went on, his voice as soft as the pillows they were sitting amongst, "but if I did, we'd just stay right here forever."

Michonne shook her head, an uncontainable smile on her face as another tear snuck down her left eye. "That sounds divine."

He smiled back at her sadly, both of them fully aware that she couldn't stay. Or wouldn't, rather, with her flight back to New York in just a few short hours. But they could enjoy the minutes they had left, at least. "Come here," he whispered, gesturing for her to lie back down with him. She moved in close, resting her hand on his cheek as her lips grazed his forehead. And he closed his eyes at the touch of her lips and the smell of his scent on her. He draped his arm across her torso and squeezed and didn't let go.

"I love you," she quietly declared, her fingers combing through his hair while his warm breath softly bathed her shoulder. She felt so comfortable, just like this.

"Me too," he breathed. He was drawing circles in her skin as he felt her heartbeat reverberating through her entire body, the same tempo and time as his. "And whether this is the beginning of somethin', or the end of it, that'll always be true."

Michonne nodded, capping off their weekend with one more kiss to the top of his head. Simple and sweet, because anything more would make her cry. She still had no idea how, or even if, they would make this work, but she needed to believe that this wasn't another goodbye. "Let's call it the middle. And we'll see what happens."

-End-


End file.
